


I Bet I'm a Better Cuddler Than You

by CanaryCry



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Comfort/Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Spies & Secret Agents, Spyral, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryCry/pseuds/CanaryCry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick was never any good at dealing with assassinations. Tiger does his best to absorb all the ugliness on his behalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Bet I'm a Better Cuddler Than You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the tumblr prompt: "I bet I'm a better cuddler than you."

Tiger saw it in Dick's eyes. The moment he realised he couldn't talk their superiors out of an assassination order. Tiger made it as quick and painless as possible, which was more than the mark deserved.

“He was going to die anyway,” Tiger said as they waited for extraction. Dick was restless, agitated, wearing a hole in the grass as he paced, fingers worrying at the strap on his chest. “He had to be stopped before he killed another innocent. Had we taken him in, he likely would have been made to suffer before his death.”

Dick didn't speak. Normally Tiger couldn't shut him up.

“Hate me if it will make you feel better,” Tiger said. “Do not blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done to save him.”

Tiger hated that Dick was forced onto these kinds of missions. He was clearly not cut out for them. He didn't have the stomach for assassination, or the ability to rationalise such an act. Tiger used to hate him for failing to kill the man who then killed Alia, but he had long since come to understand Dick simply should not have been placed on such a mission at all. Batman's conditioning ran deep, and Dick had no interest in breaking it.

The flight to home base was eerily silent. Dick stared out the aircraft's window, reflecting his sickly pale face right back at him. Tiger wanted to hold him, to reassure him, but now wasn't the time.

Dick shook with silent anger through the debriefing session. Tiger was as succinct as possible; drawing out the details would do no one any favours. Helena didn't call on Dick to give any additional information; she knew the man as well as Tiger did. It was unlikely she'd put him on this mission of her own free will.

Dick took off on his own after the debrief. Tiger thought about leaving him to cool off, but it was probably a better idea to cut off his self-hate spiral now before it got its claws into him. Tiger knew from experience it was almost impossible to dislodge once it reached that point.

He knocked before entering Dick's room, knowing how much the man hated having his privacy invaded when he was in a bad mood. The door jerked open and Tiger caught a flash of skin disappearing into the depths of the room—evidently, Dick had already discarded his uniform like it was something poisonous—and the door continued to swing open of its own accord. Tiger pushed it just enough to slip through, shutting it lightly like any noise would shatter the man on the opposite end of the room.

He undressed, discarding his shoes and uniform, leaving him, like Dick, in nothing but his underwear. It felt like he had been wearing a weight around his neck and he wondered if Dick had felt the same.

“I am sorry,” Tiger murmured, unable to resist the urge to clasp his hands together. The hands that had, mere hours ago, snapped a man's neck. He had rarely dwelt on such things before Dick came into his life.

“I know you are,” Dick said roughly.

“If there had been another way—”

“I _know_.” Dick's uniform was piled on the bed. Its owner threw it into the corner, sitting in its place. “You'll always be better at this than me,” he muttered. “I'm not... I can't...”

“That is why I did it.” Tiger sat beside Dick, reaching for his hand, only taking it when Dick didn't flinch away. “It is cruel of them to expect that of you. They know it is not in your nature.”

“I can't imagine there are a lot of spies out there who can't handle a little bloodshed.” Dick chuckled ruefully, squeezing Tiger's hand.

“Not all missions require it. You excel when your missions fit your talents, of which there are many.”

Dick looked away. “I'm not in the mood for flattery.”

“I am not flattering you,” Tiger pressed. “I am telling the truth. Shall I begin a list?”

“Please don't.”

Earnestness wasn't working. He would have to try something else. This was not his area of expertise; Dick was the socially-gifted one of the pair. Tiger could barely even tolerate speaking to most people.

Tiger rested his chin on Dick's shoulder. Dick was slightly shorter than him, so it wasn't the most comfortable position, but Dick was happy enough to rest his head against Tiger's, so at least it was worth it.

“So,” Tiger said, “you think I'm better than you?”

“As a spy,” Dick replied, with just a touch of irritation. Good. Now he knew how Tiger felt ninety per cent of the time they were together. Tiger meant that affectionately, of course. Dick had a nigh-supernatural ability to be both annoying and endearing at the same time.

“I bet I'm a better cuddler than you,” Tiger said. The odds of Dick resisting that kind of bait...

Dick snorted. “Prove it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“If you're brave enough, sure.”

“I am.” Tiger tackled Dick into the centre of the bed, where the two of them wrestled for the top position. Tiger won, moulding Dick against his chest as the man's hands shook in fists between their collarbones. Tiger stroked soothing lines up and down Dick's back.

Generally speaking, Dick was more than happy to wear his heart on his sleeve, to tease Tiger and touch him and kiss him. He laughed freely, loved freely, and never let Tiger get away with anything. He wasn't so great dealing with the darker side of himself, preferring to bundle those negative emotions tightly inside as if he was afraid Tiger wouldn't love him anymore if they broke free.

Tiger sometimes wondered if Dick had been like this before Spyral. If he'd hidden his grief, choked down his anger, bit his tongue until it bled the same way he did here. Or whether the pressure of contorting himself to fit into a hole that didn't quite suit him had forced him to hurt himself like this.

“It's all right,” Tiger soothed. He didn't want Dick to hide himself anymore. Not here. Not when it was just them. He could handle the ugliness. He had plenty of his own.

Dick breathed against his skin, drawing a trail of goosebumps across Tiger's chest. He let Tiger hold him through the night.

Tiger hoped it would get easier for him, but he had his doubts. All he could do was be here for the man, to absorb as much of that ugliness as he could on Dick's behalf. Tiger had fallen down the rabbit hole a long time ago. He didn't mind if he kept falling, as long as it kept Dick from suffering the same fate.

Dick deserved better than that.


End file.
